


Jealousy

by isadora



Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 19:30:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3085640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isadora/pseuds/isadora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written from Koalathebear's prompt - Jealousy (established relationship)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [koalathebear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalathebear/gifts).



> I've been thinking a lot about jealousy between these two characters - the most notable examples being Brody and Aayan, but I equally could have gone down the route of Astrid and Eden. Have tried hard to stay in character but in a lot of ways I could see Quinn reacting differently to different scenarios - sometimes cold and sulky, sometimes wildly furious. Hope this works :)

Jealousy

The first time Carrie has seen Quinn get jealous was in Islamabad, while she was recruiting Aayan. Standing out in the courtyard with a cardigan draped over her chemise, goosebumps rising in the morning chill, she had seen something else in his face beside disgust and concern. She had seen the way his eyes raked over her; took in what she was wearing, the exhaustion in her face and the residue of sweat and sex and made his conclusion. There had been want in his expression which had surprised her enough; she had always thought he would be attracted to someone like Fara, young and exotic looking, rather than a washed out CIA agent; but between all of his conflicting emotions, most of which she shared with him, was a deep, hungry jealousy, and she had known in that moment that she could have taken him back into the safehouse and he would have been hers, and she could have chosen someone who would keep her safe, who she wouldn’t need to manipulate. She’s not sure he’s ever forgiven her, subconsciously, for fucking Ayaan under his nose, even if the intel worked out.

The second time his jealousy had reared its head had been when he returned from his mission, into her arms, and had found out that Aasar Khan had been in touch. He’d seen the emails on her desktop and his mouth had twisted into something sour before he’d made a scathing comment about Carrie’s ongoing efforts with international diplomacy and spent the next night in his apartment drinking himself into an angry stupor while she stared in bafflement at the innocuous email and wondered what the hell she’d got herself into.

Several months on and his bugbear is the new kid in the office, an analyst by the name of Jack with soulful eyes and unfortunately bright red hair who followed Carrie around like a puppy and grated on every one of Quinn’s fraught nerves. Carrie is caught between amusement and annoyance; it’s not unpleasant to know how strongly Quinn feels, particularly given how taciturn he usually is and how unwilling they both are to talk about their feelings but the constant glowering is a bit wearing. Jack had recently commented to Carrie that he thought he’d done something to upset Quinn.

“He looks at me like...like he’s coming up with a top ten list of ways to kill me with a hole punch” he says one day, chewing on his lip, and Carrie has to bite a laugh back.

“He’s like that with a lot of people” she reassures him, “Don’t take it personally.”

Jack frowns.

“He stares at me in the bathroom.”

Carrie chokes on her coffee at that, eyes streaming as she pats at her skirt and tries to catch her breath.

“I...er...”

Poor Jack flushes the same colour as his hair

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She pats his shoulder sympathetically.

“I’m sure it’ll all blow over” she says, and waits til he’s out of the room until she allows herself to laugh until tears stream down her face at thought of Quinn spying on Jack in the bathroom to make sure he’s the better endowed.

****

That night, after Quinn has put Frannie to bed, she follows him into the kitchen and wraps her arms around him.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, and he turns in surprise.

“Sure - why wouldn’t it be?”

She shakes her head, fake innocence on her face. 

“Jack seems to have you a bit rattled at work.”

His face darkens of its own accord and he turns away, out of her embrace.

“I don’t trust the little fucker.”

“Why?”

Quinn has no answer - he stands in brooding silence in the corner, pretending to look at the shopping list.

“He came to see me today because he thinks you hate him.”

“Well, at least he’s perceptive” snarks Quinn, and turns suddenly, eyes dark, “I don’t fucking like the way he looks at you, okay?”

She blinks, taken aback.

“How does he look at me?”

The fight seems to go out of Quinn and he scrubs his forehead with a palm, the fluorescent kitchen lights washing him out.

“He looks at you like I want to look at you in public, Carrie. Like you’re the most important fucking person in any room. Like he wants your approval for every damn thing that comes out of his mouth. Like he would jump off a cliff if you told him to. And the worst fucking thing is the kid looks at you like he thinks he has a chance.”

Carrie swallows, her amusement suddenly gone. Silence stretches between them for several beats before Quinn steps forwards, catching her face between his hands and bringing her close, so they’re touching foreheads.

“I spent too long being like him” he breathes, “mooning over you like a fucking pussy before I had the balls to make my move. And I don’t like seeing him do it. I don’t like imagining him imagining fucking you.”

“He doesn’t....”  
“He does, Carrie, and you’re being naive if you think he doesn’t.”

She blinks, feeling suddenly undone and not a little defensive. The words hang unspoken between them - Quinn has gone for too long on the periphery, waiting for her to make up her mind, to be able to deal with seeing someone else do it.

“Well, you’re the one who’s so desperate to keep our relationship secret from work” she says, her voice cracking, “so maybe you have to deal with a bit of the fallout from people not knowing I’m yours.”

He recoils at that, several expressions flickering over his face in quick succession; anger, surprise, confusion and then settling on arousal.

“Say that again” he growls, eyes black, still gripping her face, “Say it again.”

“You have to deal with...”

“Not that part”

It clicks into place and her heart twists.

“I’m yours” she breathes, eyes fixed on him, “Fuck, Peter, you know that. You know I’m yours.”

He steps forward, pushing her against the counter, slants his mouth against hers heated and slow, runs one hand down her side, hand coming to rest splayed on her hip. 

“Mine” he breathes, bites down hard on her shoulder. She hasn’t seen this furiously possessive side of him since the morning in Islamabad, this heat and passion turned almost against her. It’s a heady mix and she can feel her body responding instantly even as her heart clenches at his clear insecurity, even now, even after everything.

She tangles her hands in his hair, pulling him back up to her lips, trying to get her apology across to him non-verbally.

His hands slide up and unbutton her shirt, greedily stroking over the warm skin of her abdomen, chest, breasts, back. He bends to take a nipple into his mouth and she gasps at the sensation, pressing against him. He’s rock hard against her hip and fuck, she doesn’t want to take this slow, not this time. Quinn is capable of driving her mad with his tongue and fingers and they’ve spent weekends in bed exploring each others bodies, teasing and taunting and slow and smooth, but this, right here, is pure animalistic need and she fumbles with the zip of his jeans, palming him roughly through the denim as she hops onto the counter, wrapping her legs around his waist just incase she wasn’t being clear enough.

He yanks her panties down, skirt hitched up around her waist, and scissors two fingers inside her, so abrupt it would hurt if she hadn’t been so ready for him. He smiles against her lips, presses a kiss to the side of her neck in a sudden change of pace, lips lingering against her hammering pulse

“Mine” he breathes, lining up at her entrance and pushing in so hard and fast her head falls back and smacks against one of the cabinets, causing her to swear and tighten around him. He doesn’t apologise, doesn’t check that she’s okay, just starts fucking her at a bruising rhythm, slamming into her so hard that all she can do is cling onto him, arms and legs wrapped around him as his muscles and sinews strain.

“Fuck, Carrie” he groans and grabs her legs, throwing her calves over his shoulders so he can fuck her even deeper. She swears as the angle sends shockwaves through her, his strokes building her up closer and closer to orgasm. His jaw is set, sweat beads on his brow as he slams into her over and over again, for the first time in their relationship that she can remember just taking, just using her, letting his animal instincts take over. 

He tenses, suddenly, pulls back fractionally and slides in one last time, deep and hard as he comes; she can feel his cock twitching with the intensity of it, and she’s so close that just one touch would take it; as she frees a hand he beats her to it and, without breaking eye contact, presses his thumb down onto her swollen clit and watches as she comes apart in front of him, gasping with the force of the pleasure as every muscle in her body seems to contract filling her with liquid pleasure. 

They collapse against each other, boneless, breathing ragged.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, trailing a finger so gently down her face it makes her heart ache. She shakes her head, clinging onto him. She suddenly feels a closeness, a security that she hasn’t had before with him for knowing the depth of his passion for her. The jealousy that she’d laughed at earlier in the day means more coming from Peter, someone who keeps their emotions so closely guarded, than it would from anyone else. She doesn’t have the words for it though, and just cards her hand through his hair again, massaging the back of his neck.

“Can we go to bed?”

He nods and straightens up, never letting go of her as he takes her up the stairs and lays her down gently on the bed. She curls into him straight away and he folds her into a tight embrace. There’s no need for words - there never really has been with them.

****

 

The next morning Carrie is sitting at her desk when there’s a knock at the door and Jack walks in, hesitant as ever. He’s carrying two cups of coffee and Carrie is reminded of a time when Quinn used to wait for her in the morning, looking out for her, and she’d missed it. She wonders if Quinn is right and Jack really does think he’s in with a chance.

“Thanks” she says with a smile, taking the coffee from him, and he shuffles awkwardly

“I wanted to say thanks for yesterday” he says, staring at his polished shoes, and her gut clenches awkwardly. Leave it, she thinks. Don’t keep talking. Please.

“I was just wondering if you...er...I mean...um..if I could take you out for dinner sometime?”

He looks so anxious, so fucking young, and she can’t bring herself to knock him back. She stutters for a second and his face falls.

“Look, Jack, I’m flattered but...”

The door slams open and Peter walks in, straight across the room, bends down in front of her and picks her up over his shoulder. Upside down she can see Jack gape and beyond him the office full of people craning around their computers to see what the commotion is. 

Quinn’s arm is firm around her legs - she’s got no way of getting out.

He smiles pleasantly at Jack.

“She’s flattered but she’s also very much taken, and I can assure you if you try anything with her again I will break every bone in your body one by one. No hard feelings.”

Jack gulps, pale, and edges out of the office, nodding nervously. Carrie doesn’t blame him - breaking bones is very much in Quinn’s skill set and preferences.

“Any problems?” he calls out, loud enough for the rest of the office to hear, and there’s a rustle of people lowering their heads quickly to go back to work. Carrie laughs breathlessly and thumps her fist against his back.

“The hell, Quinn?!”

He bends his knees to lower her back down and she leans up immediately to kiss him, sliding her arms around his waist, glad he’s facing away from their co-workers who have leaned around to observe again. It feels so good to have it out in the open; to not have to listen to the gossip and rumours about them together, them and other people. 

“Well, it seemed like the best way of getting rid of him” he says with a shrug, lips quirking, and she grins back at him.

“It was a little cruel.”

“Yeah” he agrees, grin widening, and pulls her flush against him. Softer, more thoughtfully, he tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I shouldn’t have blown up at you last night.”

“I didn’t mind” she whispers in his ear, her tone leaving no doubt as to what she means. “I think I quite like you getting a bit jealous if that’s how it goes.”

“How about we blow off the rest of the day?” he suggests against her lips, and when she nods he loops an arm around her and they leave the office with a room full of slack jaws and wager money changing hands behind them.

 

They don’t stop getting jealous of each other, but from that point on they discover that their coping mechanism for it is so much fun they don’t want to.


End file.
